


The Maintenance Man

by f0rever15elf



Category: Brothers & Sisters
Genre: F/M, Food mention, Mentions of PTSD, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, alcohol mention, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf
Summary: You move to a new apartment and are plagued with a slew of maintenance issues. Thankfully, the maintenance guy seems nice and is is pretty cute. Your first month is a tense whirlwind of getting to know one another.
Relationships: Zach Wellison/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	The Maintenance Man

“New state, new city, new apartment, same shitty appliances.” With a sigh, you plop down on the bean bag currently serving as the only furniture in your one bed one bath abode. The box beside you serves as your end table for your glass of wine as you stare at the ceiling, contemplating opening the window and screaming at the top of your lungs from six stories up to try and get out some of your frustrations. Not 48 hours into your new home, and the fridge has already gone out. Typical for the cheapass appliances places like this buy to save every dime they can.

“First month free, they said. No hassle, they said. A great place to live, they said!” You grab your glass, quickly downing the remaining white wine before standing up again to start unpacking while you wait on the maintenance guy to get here to tell you what’s wrong with the damn thing so you know if you’re about to be out almost $200 worth of food. “If this is any indicator of how living here is gonna go, I’m out of here as soon as I get the chance.”

Tearing open a box with far more force than necessary, the contents scatter across the laminate floor, plastic CD cases everywhere and you barely resist the urge to scream. “Can I not get a break for FIVE MINUTES?!”

The move here had been exhausting and expensive, having gotten not one, not two, but _three_ flats along the drive. You’re pretty sure you lost your ID and credit card somewhere in Tuscon, and on day two of driving you had to battle a mild case of food poisoning from that gas station hot dog you really shouldn’t have eaten. One thing after the other, and this is just the icing on the cake.

Shortly after your outburst, there’s a knock at the door, and for a moment ‘Go away’ rests on the tip of your tongue. That is, until you hear ‘Maintenance’ called from the other side. Thank God.

You stand, leaving the CDs scattered as you make your way to open the door. You aren’t ready for who you see there. The maintenance man at your last place had been an older man, stocky and bald headed with ashy grey eyes that always looked a little glazed over. He constantly gave you looks that made your skin crawl, and truth be told he was part of the reason you packed up and moved across the country. Prepared for a repeat, it takes you a moment to get your wits about you when you come face to face with a young, handsome man with smiling brown eyes and short cropped light brown hair.

“I’m here about a fridge?” the man questions, his voice a soothing baritone.

You blink several times before standing back and opening the door wider for him to enter. “Uh, yeah. It just stopped getting cold. Not sure what’s up. I checked the breaker, but nothing’s tripped.” He smiles as he moves past you, eyeing the mess on the floor as he makes his way to the fridge.

“It’s probably the condenser. These models are old and the complex is slowly cycling them out as they die. Good news about that is we just got a shipment of a couple replacements in, so if it _is_ the condenser, we can get your fridge replaced right away.” He chatters away as he moves the fridge away from the wall.

“That’s a relief. I don’t exactly have the ability to go buy a bunch of coolers right now.” With a sigh, you kneel back on the floor to pick up your mess of CDs as the maintenance man crawls behind the fridge.

“You’re new here, right? Just moved in?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah I did. Why?” You throw a confused glance his way before standing, hands full of acrylic cases as you take them to their proper place on the CD stand.

“Cause this unit has been empty for a while, so you may be having some move-in pains.” He curses under his breath as a wrench clatters to the ground. “Pipe issues, appliance issues. Stuff like that.” He pokes his head out from behind the fridge, noticing the frown tugging at the corners of your lips. “But if you ever have an issue, just let me know and I’ll take care of it as soon as I can. The maintenance request system is janky, so if you have an issue you can just come knock on my door.” He ducks back behind the fridge again, resuming his work.

“That’s kind of you to offer. Thanks.”

“Mhm!”

For the rest of the half-hour he spends working on the fridge, he does so in relative silence, only the occasional grunt or curse coming from behind the useless appliance. When he does finally pop back out, his lips are pulled down in a frown as he wipes his hands on his jeans. “Well, the condenser is shot, like I thought. So I’m gonna go get my buddy and we’ll get them switched out. Mind clearing out the food you got in it while I’m gone?”

With a sigh, you lean against the counter and nod. “Yeah, I’ll take care of that. Thank you…,” you trail off as you realize you don’t know this man’s name.

“Zach,” he grins, holding out his hand which you take firmly in your own. The look of surprise on your face is mirrored by his at the strength of your hold. “Good handshake.”

“Thanks. Habit. I’ll get started on this. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you guys to come in when you get the fridge up here.”

“Awesome, be right back.” With a grin, he moves past you back out into the hallway, whistling as he goes, and you decide that you like him far better than the guy at your old place. Maybe this move would work out okay after all.

Zach assures you when he returns that it won’t take long to make the swap, and that you’re welcome to continue working on whatever you need to, but you choose instead to sequester yourself to your bedroom to stay out of their way, finding it hard to tear your eyes away from the handsome man when you’re in the same room as him. You’ve known him for all of 30 minutes, but he’s already consuming your wandering thoughts.

“You’re all set!” comes Zach’s voice from the kitchen, lurching you from your daydream of warm eyes and smile lines. You walk out to find him smiling, hands on his hips, his buddy having already left. “This model is a little bigger than your last one, which is a bonus.” He flashes you a wink before reaching down to grab his toolbox, your eyes tracing the lines of his arm. “Should be working fine for you now, so just get a hold of me if you have any troubles with it. It should be good and cold in about half an hour or so.”

“Thank you, and thank you for coming on such short notice, especially so late.”

“Not a problem. I live on the floor above you, so it’s not like it was a major trek for me or anything. Now, if you lived in building four, this discussion might be a little different.” The grin on his face reveals a dimple on his right cheek, and you can’t help but think of how endearing it is. “Oh, right, I’m in 718 if anything else breaks at an odd hour. I’m usually there if I’m not in a unit. Come up any time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Zach. Thank you.” With a smile, you walk him to the door, holding it open for him as he takes his leave.

“Sure thing! I’ll see ya round. Welcome to the complex!” And with that, he’s off once again, whistling that same tune as he goes. The Halls of Montezuma.

“Hmm…. I wonder….” The sound is cut off as you shut the door, turning to eye the perishables on your counter. Well, best to load them up now, then hit the sack. It’s set to be a long day tomorrow.

That night, your dreams are filled with warm brown eyes and a familiar melody.

~~~

Upstairs in 718, Zach is doing his best to distract himself from the pretty eyes and smile of the girl downstairs. The girl who likes classic rock and has a penchant for chocolate ice cream if the two half-gallons on your counter were anything to go by.

“Get it together, Wellison,” he chides himself, smacking his cheeks lightly before heading to get cleaned up for bed. He knows that he knows next to nothing about you, but that doesn’t stop his mind from wandering just enough. What other things might you like? Are you a sports fan, or do you prefer crime dramas? Do you prefer the rain or the sun? Do you like… brown eyes?

Zach shakes his head at that thought, doing his best to drive the ridiculous notion of _anything_ happening based on one maintenance visit from his mind. For all he knows, you’re taken. Besides? Who would want a washed up ex-marine?

~~~

Zach was more right about the move-in pains of a long vacant unit than you would have liked. Two days after the fridge, the dishwasher started leaking and the day after that your shower stopped spraying. Each time, it was at an inconvenient hour that had you knocking sheepishly on the door to 718, and each time it was met with a bright smile as he grabbed his toolbox to follow you downstairs. You didn’t talk much when he was working, resigning to let him work in peace but always leaving a glass of water out for him without being asked. It was almost… comfortable having him working in your unit, a sight you weren’t opposed to seeing more often.

Today, the trend continues, this time at a more reasonable hour. This time, it’s the piping under the sink. Something had started leaking while you were doing the dishes, and the water pooled up quickly. After the shower incident, Zach had given you his number to reach him in case of emergencies, so before you crawled under the sink to try and fix the problem on your own, or at least mitigate it till he shows up, you send him a text.

And that’s exactly how he finds you when he opens the door to your unit; laying in water, crammed under the sink, swearing at the drainage pipe coming off the garbage disposal as you try to get the gasket to come loose. So wrapped up in the job are you that you don’t hear your door open, having left it unlocked for Zach whenever he could get to you.

“You know that’s my job, right?”

“Fucking shit!” you cry, sitting up under the counter fast enough to sufficiently whack your head on the pipe over your head.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry!” Zach panics, face immediately blanketed in concern as he crouches down to help you out and survey the damage.

You press the palm of your hand to your forehead with a soft hiss, clenching your eyes closed as you scoot out of the cabinet. “Fuck…. It’s fine, just didn’t hear you come in. God damn that hurts like a fucking bitch.” You crack an eye open to catch Zach staring at you with a bemused expression. “What?”

“You swear like a sailor,” he jokes, gently moving your hand from your forehead to check on the injury.

“It’s cause I am one,” you sigh, letting him check you over as you sit on the kitchen floor, the sink steadily dripping behind you. “Six years in the navy to pay for school.” You flinch away as the pad of his thumb ghosts over the red spot, his lips tugging down slightly at the reaction.

“Really?” He sits back, the surprise evident in his voice as you nod. “Well, we got more in common than I realized. I’m a vet too. Marines.”

“I had wondered. Heard your whistling Halls of Montezuma the other day.” With a grunt, you stand up to go get an ice pack for your head as Zach trades places with you, scooting under the counter. Wrapping the ice in a towel and pressing it to your forehead, you lean back against the counter, watching him work. “Ya know, I’m tired of things busting in this apartment.”

“Hey, at least it means you get to spend more time with the maintenance guy. I hear he’s pretty cute.” You can hear a smile in his voice and it causes your own lips to curl up as well.

“True, that _is_ a perk. He is pretty nice to look at, I’ll give him that.” Zach chuckles, still hard at work under the sink.

“Leaky gasket. I’m just wondering why it’s dripping when the sink is off. It’s almost like water is backing up somewhere further down the line.” A few more cranks of his wrench, and the floodgates open, soaking the man and your kitchen floor. You yelp before bolting to grab every single towel you can, laying them out to soak up the deluge. “Well, that’s exactly what’s happening. This is not good,” he grumbles, tightening the leaking gasket back before sliding out from the cabinet. His T-shirt clings to his broad shoulders, his now wet hair plastered to his head. He looks quite akin to a drowned rat and you immediately feel awful for him. He grunts as he stands, brushing the soaking hair from his face. “I need to go find the back up and kill water to the complex till we get this fixed. We’ll get this handled, don’t worry. Keep your door unlocked, I’ll be in and out.” With a nod from you, he’s out the door, already calling his buddy. Midway down, he pauses and turns to look at you. “And expect water to be off for a while!” Another nod, and he’s gone.

For the rest of the evening and into the night, Zach is in and out of your place, trying to get the water issue fixed. Occasionally, you hand him a glass of water, which he greedily gulps down before bolting out once more to keep working. When midnight finally hits, there’s a knock at your door, and when you open it, Zach is standing there looking worn down but triumphant.

“Finally got it fixed. I’m so sorry it took so long, but water should be back on now.” His eyes quickly dart down your body, taking in your comfy looking Pjs before reconnecting with your own. “You should be good now. I got the gasket replaced too, so that should be the end of your water issues, for the kitchen at least. And I’m sorry if I woke you up.” He gestures to your getup and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Nah, just getting comfy. Was thinking about some mindless TV before bed. Maybe a pizza.” At the mention of pizza, you hear a low grumbling sound and Zach’s face flushes bright red. He stuffs his hands in his pockets as he chuckles nervously, looking away from your amused expression. “Zach, did you eat at all during this water nonsense?”

“Didn’t have time to, really.”

Your exasperated sigh brings his focus back to you, chocolate brown eyes wide. “Join me, then. I can’t eat a whole pizza by myself. I was gonna order from the place down the street, since they do late night delivery.”

“I’m a mess, though, and I really can’t impose. I already made a mess of your kitchen trying to fix your sink.” From the way he fidgets in the doorway, you can tell he really does want to stay. It’s sweet, really.

“Don’t worry about it, the towels are already washed and dried. No harm, no foul. Go get cleaned up. I’ll order us a large pep and when you’re done, come back down. Sound good?” You lean against the door jam, smiling up at him as he continues to fidget there, cheeks bright red.

“If you’re sure…,”

“I am. It’ll be good to spend some time together without the distraction of fixing something in my apartment. Now hop to it.” He visibly relaxes at your playfulness, returning your smile as he straightens back up, squaring his shoulders.

“Yes, ma’am.” He throws you a loose, mock salute before turning and jogging towards the stairs, a spring in his step.

As you shut the door behind him, the smile never leaves your face and you feel a fluttering in your chest. Excitement? Nerves? Who knows? You quickly shake your head to clear it, trying to will yourself to calm down as you dial up the pizza place. “Hey, Marty! You got a late night stop in ya tonight?”

~~~

The floor above, the normally put together marine all but races through his shower, rambling to himself the whole time. “Just pizza, Zach. It’s just pizza. Never mind that she’s cute and nice and has killer taste in music, it’s just pizza. _Just. Pizza.”_

Ever since that first maintenance call, you’ve been filling every spare train of thought he has. From the way your eyes crinkle when you smile to the way you fidget with the hems of your shirts to the way his name sounds on your lips. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t fantasized about that voice in a far, far different light. And now? Now you’re inviting him to your place for something other than maintenance work, meaning he’s going to get to actually talk to you this time. Which _hopefully_ means that you’re interested, even just a little bit. He’s been worrying that you’d want nothing to do with him, given that any time he _was_ over, you’d leave him to his own devices. And then today while he was trying to be smooth, he’d spooked you and caused you to whack your head under the sink.

“Yeah, real smooth, Zach. Real fuckin’ smooth.” He continues to grumble to himself as he dresses in one of his drab green t-shirts and some cotton PJ pants. If you were cozy, he could be too, right? As a last minute detail, he rinses his mouth with some mouthwash before grabbing his phone and a couple of beers, heading back down to your place.

He shouldn’t be this nervous. Hell, he’d served active duty. He’d been shot at and slept where he could hear bombs in the not so far distance and he handled that there. So why does he now feel like his heart is about to beat out of his chest over meeting a new friend for late night pizza? “Get it together, Wellison,” he mutters under his breath before knocking on the door.

“Come on in, Zach!” comes your voice from inside, and so he lets himself in. “You’ve been in and out of my place all day, you could have just walked right in. I was expecting you, afterall,” you giggle from the two-seater love seat, a book in your lap that you set aside when he closes the door behind him.

“I was raised to be polite,” he grins back, instantly at ease when you smile at him. “I brought us each a beer? I’m not sure if you drink or not, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt?”

“Beer and pizza is the best combo. Thank you. The pizza should be here any minute now.” You stand and amble over to the counter, leaning against it as you watch Zach pop the caps with his keys, handing one to you. “Thanks.”

He nods with a smile before holding his bottle out to you. “To finally being done with that shitty water problem!”

“I’ll drink to that!” you laugh as you clink your bottle with his, promptly taking a large swig immediately after.

He watches you with a smile for a moment before his eyes drift to your forehead. “How’s the head from earlier?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’ve hit it harder on the pipes in the boats I inspected,” you chuckle, reaching up to rub the tender spot.

“No shit, you worked on a sub?” He leans forward, his interest firmly captured.

“All the teachers had to have several rounds of inspection procedure logged for both the subs and the carriers before we could teach in the classroom. After all, you can’t teach something you have no experience with.” You drop your gaze down to your bottle, suddenly fascinated by the tiny bubbles as you pick at the label. “I, uh, I never deployed. I got a degree in nuclear engineering. They don’t put us out on the active vessels. They’d rather us train techs to do it.” You don’t say the next sentence. Zach is military, he knows the implications of that statement. “I basically was just an instructor for five of my six years serving out my contract. But there’s not much in the way for nuclear engineers at the moment in the private sector. Even ones with security clearance.”

Zach is quiet at that, and you grow nervous. He had been excited to know you had served, probably felt like he’d found someone he could talk to, but you had next to none of the experiences he did. Compared to an active duty marine, your life stateside was a cake walk. “So… you’re like… _smart_ smart.”

Your brow furrows and your eyes snap up to see him staring at you, his head slightly tilted and it takes you a minute to form words again when you catch the shine in his eyes. “I… I mean… I guess? Went to school for five years to become proficient in the material, but that’s it.”

“No, you’re definitely smart. I’m just good with my hands.” He grins, raising his eyebrows at you.

Before your brain has the ability to filter the comment, the words are already past your lips. “For more than just maintenance work, right?” When your words register in your own mind, you’re mortified. You swallow thickly as Zach stares at you, wide-eyed, the comment clearly taking him off guard. For a moment, time freezes, your blood pounding in your ears. Just as he opens his mouth to reply, there’s a knock at your door. Your saving grace, bless this pizza man. You all but run around Zach, yanking the door open and thanking the delivery driver for the pizza before handing over a generous tip. “Dinner!”

Zach watches you as you move past him, your comment still leaving him slightly stunned. Now the question remains, was that a knee-jerk reaction on your part, or is there something more to that little slip of yours? Do you _actually_ want an answer to that question? Do you want to make that judgement for him? His mouth goes dry at the thought of getting to show you just how good he is, and he quickly takes a swig from his beer. He wants to ask, wants to keep up the flirting to see how flustered he can get you, but seeing how uncomfortable you’ve suddenly become, he decides it best to brush it off for now, smiling as you set the pizza down in front of him.

“Oh, Marty’s! They have the best pizza in town, hands down.” He grins as you hand him a plate, reaching for a slice of the steaming pie. “Great guy. He was really good to me when I was…,” Zach’s voice trails off, leaving the thought unfinished as he looks away and for a moment there’s an odd tension in the air.

“When you were what?” you ask as gently as you can manage, worried at the sudden change in his demeanor.

“Nothing, it’s not important. Forget I said anything.”

“Zach,” you start, but he cuts you off with the harshest look you’ve ever seen. It’s sharp and guarded and cuts through you like a knife. 

“I said forget it,” he snaps, pushing off the counter to turn away from you and run a hand through his still damp hair. You’d hit a nerve, clearly, and his reaction causes your heart to plummet to your feet.

“I… I’m sorry.” An awkward silence settles over the two of you as you pick at a pepperoni on your slice of pizza. “I didn’t mean to strike a nerve.” Your voice is so soft and upset, that it causes his shoulders to slump. He doesn’t like the sound of your voice when you’re upset.

You see, Zach carries with him a fierce pride. He always has, and his time in the marines only served to exacerbate that. When he came back, it was one of his only defenses in a world that turned its back on him as soon as he set foot on the soil he called home. But that pride is fragile, and he knows it. And now that fragile pride has triggered a defense response, as his doctor tells him, and upset what was shaping up to be a nice night. He doesn’t like how heavy the air feels, or how your face looked when he snapped at you. And so, he swallows his pride, taking a deep breath to turn around.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you, I’m sorry. It’s just… things haven’t always been easy for me and sometimes that pops back up.” You look up at him as he speaks, watching him with furrowed brow as he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Textbook PTSD and all the fun things that come with it. I’m… still working through it. I just… I don’t want to keep living in the shame of the past and what I used to be.”

“We don’t need to talk about it, it’s okay.” You offer him a soft smile, picking your plate and beer up off of the counter. “It’s our first time actually hanging out, so let’s not dwell on the depressing shit. You’ve had a long enough day as it is. Let’s watch some TV and just chill, yeah? There’s a Terminator marathon on right now.”

Zach watches you for a moment, confused at how in stride you seem to take his outburst, and for some reason that only serves to make him feel more guilty for his reaction, but he follows you all the same, plopping down on the love seat next to you. “Terminator, huh?”

“Yeah, love me some Arnie.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him in an attempt to lighten the mood more, and you’re relieved when it works, the laugh bubbling from his lips warm and rich and you decide you’ll need to make him laugh more often.

~~~

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep, but when you finally stir, you find the movie has ended, the TV black and the room quiet. Save for the gentle snoring, that is. Snoring…. Your brow furrows as you slowly sit up, and you quickly realize that what you’ve been resting against has not, in fact, been the arm of your love seat. Rather, it’s been Zach’s very broad, very strong shoulder. Heat floods your cheeks at the realization, wondering just how long you’ve been sleeping against him. Why hadn’t he woken you up? Surely his own bed was far more comfortable than your tiny little love seat.

Reaching for your phone on the arm of the seat by you, you check the time to see it’s four in the morning and your heart sinks a bit, guilt settling over you. You know Zach has work today starting at seven, and after the madness of yesterday, you know he’s going to be exhausted and probably sore when he wakes up. So, you decide to carefully extract yourself from the seat, doing your best to not wake the sleeping man beside you. You’ll grab him a blanket and let him sleep as long as he needs.

Your efforts are fruitless, however, and the sleepy murmur of your name stoping you dead in your tracks as you attempt to sneak back to your bedroom. When you glance back over your shoulder, you see Zach sitting up, rubbing his eyes as he looks around, disoriented. It doesn’t last long though, and after a few blinks he looks back to you much more alert, albeit still confused. “Where are you going?” he whispers, not wanting to break the quiet of the apartment.

“Uhm… to my bed? I didn’t want to… overstep any of your boundaries by sleeping on you. I was gonna get you a blanket so you could sleep there as long as you needed since you have work tomorrow.” You glance at your phone. “Er… this morning, I guess.”

“What time is it?” he groans as he stretches, his olive drab shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of toned stomach above his waistband and you do your best to tear your eyes away from it.

“About four. We haven’t been asleep long.”

Zach nods, standing up and scratching the back of his head with a lazy smile on his lips. “Well, we got a pretty decent nap in, at least.” His eyes drift back to the now cold pizza on the counter, his stomach growling before looking back to you. “Wanna join me for some morning pizza?”

You blink, taken aback at his question before a smile splits your own lips. “I haven’t had cold, leftover pizza for breakfast since I was a sophomore in college.”

“Well, maybe it’s time to break that dry spell,” he chuckles, moving to open the box. What the hell, a slice of morning pizza wouldn’t hurt. You join him at the counter, hopping up on a bar stool next to him to eat straight from the box. “I’m sorry for passing out here uninvited,” he eventually pipes up after several bites of his slice. You toss him a confused glance, eyebrow arched.

“Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who passed out on you.” At that, he shrugs, taking another bite before speaking again.

“There are far worse things than my cute new crush falling asleep on my shoulder.” Heat floods your cheeks again, your heart stuttering in your chest as you stare at him wide-eyed. Cute? Crush?

He glances at you, doing a double take when he sees you staring before his cheeks flush red. “Did… did I say that out loud?” When you slowly nod, he clears his throat, setting his half eaten slice down before standing. “I… uh… sorry. I’ll, uh, see myself out now. Thanks for the food.” He wipes his hands on his pants, quickly moving past you and ducking out the door before you can even manage to get a word out.

As the door shuts behind him, you stay perched on the stool, stunned at the sudden confession. He… thinks you’re cute? Has a crush on you? That attraction you’ve been feeling for the building maintenance manager is… reciprocated? You swallow thickly, your heart still hammering in your chest as you hop from the stool to store the rest of the pizza in the fridge, your mind running a mile a minute. This… could be the beginning of something very interesting. Once both of you calm down enough to talk again, that is.

Or, at least it could have been the start of something if Zach hadn’t all but disappeared from the building. Most days, when you would make your way in or out of the building you would at least spot him doing something and toss him a wave in greeting. Ever since the morning he all but ran from your apartment, however, it’s almost as if he’s vanished from existence, and the one time you _did_ see him, he _actually_ ran down the hall in the opposite direction of you. It made your heart sink in your chest, a worry settling in your stomach that perhaps the friendship you had just started forging with the kind maintenance man had shattered before it could really begin to develop.

After two weeks of this game of cat and mouse, you’ve finally had enough. You had dealt with some of the most stubborn individuals you’d ever met in your time training sailors, surely you can have a conversation with Zach about this whole avoidance game he’s been playing. Finding him in the apartment wasn’t going to work, given how he had run from you before, and you’re fairly certain that if you tried to knock, he’d just ignore you. So, you settle for the next idea that pops into your head.

Grabbing your phone, you shoot him a text saying that the shower head’s stopped working again, determined to get him into your apartment to talk to him. It doesn’t take long for him to show up, knocking politely on your door as he’s wont to do. When you open it, smiling up at him, he doesn’t meet your gaze, hand stuffed in his pocket and eyes downcast. “Come in, Zach.”

He nods, carefully stepping past you before making a bee-line to the bathroom, toolbox in hand. Not even so much as a greeting…. You cross your arms, following after him to lean against the doorway, watching. If you hadn’t been so nervous about the upcoming conversation, you’d have laughed at the confused look on his face when the shower works just fine. He kills the water, turning to look at you for the first time since you opened your door to him. “It’s working fine?” he asks, confusion thick in his voice.

“I know,” you state, still leaning against the doorway. “I wasn’t sure how else to get you here so we could talk.”

“Can this wait? I’m on the clock.” Zach squares his shoulders, his tone short as he grabs his tool box before moving to stand in front of you, waiting on you to move. 

“That depends. You gonna keep running away from me every time you see me?” You arch an eyebrow, the authoritative tone in your voice the same as you used with unruly students. His lips pull down into a frown as he holds your gaze, trying to make himself seem bigger, which, with as broad as he is, is an easy feat. No one had talked to him like that since he left the Marine Corps, and he isn’t a fan.

“We’ll talk later,” he bites out through gritted teeth, knuckles white on his tool box. He doesn’t want to get mad. Not at you, not like this. It’s not his right to get mad at you for wanting to talk, not after it’s been him that’s been avoiding you. “Move.”

Your eyes narrow as you stare him down, still leaning against the doorway. The tension building in his body is evident, and though you aren’t scared of him, you don’t want to be the reason he goes off. He hasn’t told you everything about his time in the service, or after it, but there are some things that don’t need to be spoken to be known. And so you relent, stepping back into the hallway with a sigh to let him pass. “Fine. Go finish work. Just… text me when you’re off the clock?” It’s a halfhearted request, one you aren’t sure he’ll comply with given the past two weeks, but you ask it all the same.

The pleading, defeated tone in your voice catches him by surprise as he moves past you and he hesitates. He turns his head just enough to acknowledge you before nodding and promptly leaving your apartment, closing the door with more force than necessary behind him.

The rest of the day, it’s impossible for you to focus on anything. You know you need to be prepping for your first day of work next week, but every time you open your computer, all you do is stare at the screen. You aren’t sure just how many times you’ve read the same line before you finally slam it closed in frustration. Maybe a shower will do you some good, you decide, heading to try and wash away the anxieties of waiting for the clock to strike quitting time.

Over in building two, a certain ex-marine isn’t fairing too much better. His focus is all over the place while he’s trying to work, and he’s already slammed his thumb with a hammer and knocked his head on a pipe under a sink hard enough that a prominent knot has formed. All because you’re at the forefront of his thoughts, that defeated tone playing over and over again. He’s known this whole time that two weeks ago would eventually come back up, and that he would need to talk to you about it. He’s just been hoping that it would be on his own time, whenever he decided to finally send that drafted text that’s been sitting in his messages since the morning he all but ran from your apartment. A message that he’s spent far more time staring at than he’s willing to admit. You cornering him in your bathroom, wise to his game, had drastically thrown him off. So much so that he had very nearly lost his cool on you. That is something he would have never been able to forgive himself for.

Come quitting time, Zach is sporting several new bruises and cuts from working while distracted, and his head is hurting quite a bit. The cuts are all small, so he doesn’t particularly care about them, forgoing bandaging anything. He’s had worse, after all. When he makes it back to his own apartment, he pulls out his phone to text you as you had requested only to be greeted with the same unsent message that’s stared him down for two weeks now.

‘Look. I meant what I said, and I’d like to get to know you more.’

With a sigh, he deletes the message before letting you know he’s done, whenever you want to talk to him. It doesn’t take long for his phone to buzz with your reply, a surprised laugh passing through his lips as he reads the message before typing out his own quick reply and looking around his place. _Shit_. He needs to clean up.

~~~

When your phone finally buzzes with Zach’s first message after what feels like an eternity, you’re in the middle of airing out your apartment, praying that your little kitchen mishap won’t set off the building’s fire alarm. Your patio door is open, as are all your windows as you use a towel to fan out the smoke. So much for salmon tonight. It’s not until you’re confident that the coast is clear that you set down the towel to reply to Zach.

‘So, I was gonna say come to mine for dinner so we could talk, but dinner literally just went up in smoke. So… that’s off the table.’

You chew at your lip nervously, waiting for a reply and unsure exactly how he would be after your little confrontation today, something that admittedly went much better in your head. Zach’s reply is quick though, and when you see his invitation up to his own place, you can’t help but smile. Things must not be too bad if he is willing to extend that kind of hospitality to you.

‘I’ll be up in ten.’

Ten minutes later, on the dot, you’re knocking on his door, bouncing on the balls of your feet with a six pack of beer clutched in one hand. The smile you give him as Zach opens the door is instant, genuinely happy to see him and not have him running the other way. “Hey. I brought a peace offering?” You hold up the pack in front of your face and Zach lets out a single, nearly nervous sounding laugh.

“Good. I could use it,” he quips as he opens the door wider, inviting you in. You step carefully past him, setting the six pack on the counter as you look around. His floor plan is the same as yours, his being a little more lived in, it seems. In place of a loveseat, he has a full-sized couch in front of a flat screen that’s mounted on the wall. In the corner of the room are a set of free weights and along the counter are several tool boxes and his belt. The whole place smells like whatever cologne it is that he wears, something warm and woodsy that fits him so perfectly.

“Rough day?” you ask, trying to make conversation, but he just laughs humorlessly, leaning against the counter opposite you. That’s when you notice the darkened spot on his forehead, your brow stitching in concern. “Did you hit your head?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s nothing. Just a bruise.” He hesitates, staring at the counter before looking back up at you. “You threw me off earlier, cornering me like you did.”

 _There it is,_ you think, wincing a little bit at the accusation as you pull out a bottle before popping it open with your keys and sliding it across to him. “Yeah…. I’m sorry about that, I just wasn’t sure how else to get your attention. Zach, you literally ran from me a couple days ago when you saw me in the hallway. I’m kinda over it.” You repeat the action with your own beer, mirroring his stance as you lean against the counter. “Cornering you in the bathroom probably wasn’t the best move, yeah, but you didn’t leave me many options.”

“Yeah, I don’t do well with being cornered…. Just don’t do it again.” He takes a swig of his beer, setting it down before tacking on, “Please. At least, not while I’m on the clock. I have a lot of units with requests that I gotta handle.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Acted before I thought.” You take several large drinks from your own bottle, looking away as an awkward silence settles over both of you.

He hates it, this uncomfortable silence. He’d much rather it be filled with your laughter or excited chatter than this. He’s gotta make things right again. “I’m sorry.” He finally breaks the silence, his apology soft, and when you look back at him, he’s picking at the label on his bottle. “For running, I mean.”

You blink, tilting your head as you ponder your response. When you’re quiet for too long, Zach looks up and you very nearly melt at the fear and concern you see in his gorgeous brown eyes. “What’s going on, Zach?” You finally question, deciding to just cut to the chase. “You’ve been avoiding me ever since you all but ran from my place two weeks ago. Why? Did I overstep when you stayed for pizza? What did I do so I can fix it?”

“You didn’t do anything,” he’s quick to reply, leaning forward with earnest. “You did absolutely nothing.”

“Then why? I don’t understand.”

He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, wincing a bit as he brushes the knot on the top of his head, still tender from whacking it earlier. “Because I was scared.” The words are rushed and strained as he speaks them, words that he’s not used to saying around anyone. Unfortunately, all they manage to do is leave you more confused.

“I… I don’t…-” He doesn’t let you finish your thought, cutting you off.

“I called you cute, and don’t get me wrong, you are. You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve _ever_ seen, and definitely the smartest, but I’d only known you like, what, two weeks?” You stare at Zach as he rambles, his words coming faster and faster as he starts to pace in his kitchen. “And I told you I had – _have_ – a crush on you. And you had been tiptoeing around me that morning when I woke up on your couch and I dunno it was just _out there_ and I got scared that I’d fucked it all up so I left and I haven’t been able to face you cause I’ve been worried you’d hate me or something. Which I wasn’t ready for cause I like you.” He freezes when those words see the light of day for the second time, slowly turning to look at you as his cheeks begin to flush, the tips of his ears red hot. It’s been a long time since he’s rambled like that to anyone. 

“You like me?” It’s barely a whisper when you say it, your heart thundering in your chest as you and Zach stare one another down from across the counter. You must be dreaming. The man you’ve been crushing on for a month now just reconfirmed liking you. Surely, you must be dreaming. “Like… me?” You point to yourself as you ask the question, Zach still staring at you, seemingly locked in place.

“Y…yeah… I do.” He’s never wished for some divine being to strike him down where he stands more than he does at this very moment, watching as the gears turn inside your head. He feels sick, and for the briefest moment he’s grateful he hasn’t eaten dinner yet. You aren’t saying anything. Oh god, why aren’t you saying anything?

The smile that slowly starts to split your lips throws him for a loop, but it’s when you start giggling that his confusion and worry morphs into indignation and irritation. Rejection is one thing, but getting laughed at for confessing how he feels? That’s just a dick move. “Really? You gotta _laugh_ at me about it? What the fuck?” The scowl across his lips is prominent, his hold on the bottle deathly tight as he watches you in stitches against his counter.

You frantically shake your head, unable to control the giggles. “N-No! N-not at you! At me!” you manage to make out, covering your face in an attempt to calm down. When you finally do, Zach is still standing there with a scowl on his face and confusion in his eyes, waiting for your explanation. “Oh, things just got so much easier.”

“What do you mean?” he snaps, still irritated by your laughing.

“Cause I like you too!”

He freezes, eyes going wide at your confession as all irritation melts from him. Did he hear you right? Did you just say you like him too? “Please tell me that I didn’t whack my head harder than I thought today and now it’s causing me to hallucinate. What did you just say?”

“I said I like you too, Zach. I have since that first day you came to fix my fridge.” You push off the counter, rounding it to smile up at him. “And I want to spend more time with you. I wanna have more late night pizza with you and fall asleep with you on the couch more. I wanna get to know you and laugh with you and just be with you. I don’t know how many more ways I can say it, Zach.”

He’s gazing down at you with such intensity that you feel so much smaller than you are, fidgeting in place as you wait for him to say something. To say anything. “Are you sure? You don’t know what I come from,” he whispers, reaching out to take one of your hands.

“Isn’t it you who said that you wanted to get out of living in the shadow of the past?” You squeeze his hand gently. “I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me, whenever you want to tell it to me, Zach. But I won’t force you to tell me anything. I know about the deployment. I know about the PTSD. That doesn’t bother me, and I want to do what I can to help you through that.”

“I was homeless,” he finally blurts out, eyes looking down to your joined hands. “I came back and Uncle Sam spat in my face. VAs were overcrowded so I was turned away when I sought help. I couldn’t hold down a job because of my anger issues that I couldn’t get help for cause the VA turned me away. I couldn’t get a place to stay because I couldn’t afford it so I slept in the park. Got mugged on more than one occasion. I lived out of a duffle bag for almost a year and lost a ton of weight from not eating. Maty fed me on occasion when I’d wander by. This job is the first one I’ve held since I left the Marines.”

You’re quiet as you listen to him, your heart breaking a little bit more with each declaration. “Zach, I-” He cuts you off with a quick shake of his head.

“I don’t want pity, so don’t try and offer it. I don’t need it.” He looks back up at you, a fierce determination in his eyes. “I’m not that homeless, Marine Corps reject anymore. I’m a building manager. And I’m _good_ at it. _That’s_ who I want you to see. _That’s_ who I am.”

“I never had any doubt,” you offer quietly, squeezing his hand again before you slowly lift the other to rest it on his cheek. He lets you, leaning slightly into your touch. “War is awful. I’m lucky that I never saw active duty. But I’ve known plenty who have. I’ve lost plenty who have….” Your thumb traces lightly along his cheekbone as he watches you, listening. “It’s not your fault. None of it is. But what’s important now is that you are moving forward, yeah? You’ve got a place to live, and a nice job. You’ve got stability… and I hope a person you can see about the PTSD who isn’t necessarily in the VA’s office.” He nods at that, and relief washes over you. “Then that’s who I see. I see the Zach who is working hard to do good and to improve his station. A Zach who is nice, and sweet, and good with his hands.” You offer him a grin which he returns. “I see a Zach who I want to get to know more. So, can I? Can I get to know you more?”

He raises his hand to rest over yours on his face, closing his eyes for a moment to let your words soak in before meeting your gaze once more, lips curled in a small smirk. “Only if I can get to know you, too,” he murmurs.

“I think that sounds like a fair trade.”

“Then how about we have a redo on that pizza night, yeah?”

“You buying this time?” you quip, the smile on your face wide.

“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” he echoes your words, tilting his head down just enough to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. All of that worry for naught. This would be the beginning of something amazing. 


End file.
